FREISTOH’S 

©USA DMA, 

NO 94. 


LIFE IN NEW YORK; 

OR, 

TQM AND JERRY ON A VISIT, 

A 

COMIC DRAMA, IN TWO ACTS, 

BY 

JOHN BROUGHAM, Esq. 


With Cast of Characters. Stage Business , Costumes. Relative 
Positions , etc. etc. 


AS PERFORMED AT THE PRINCIPAL THEATRES. 


NEW- YORK: 


PRICE. 


SAMUEL FRENCH, 

121 N A SS A t’-STR E E T. 


121 CENTS. 


O ■ 

-pSWOA 


Qt o stume . — (L ife in New Yobk.) 

CORINTHIAN TOM. — First dress, gray overcoat, light vest, dark 
pantaloons. Second, Evening dress. Third, Walking suit. 

JERRY. — First, Morning dress, white overcoat. Second , full dress. 
Third , Walking dress. 

LOGIC. — First, Black frock-coat, check pantaloons, umbrella, green 
glasses, peculiar hat. Second, Full dress. Third, Walking dress. 

GREENE. — First, Very novel plaid travelling dress and cap to match. 
Second, Dress suit. Third, Black coat and plaid pantaloons. Fourth , 
The same, dilapidated. 

SMITH. — First, Groom’s dress. Second, Extreme full dress, fashion- 
able suit. Third, Very foppish walking dress. 

LAFORTE. — First , French valet. Second, Extra full dress, beard a 
la Louis Napoleon order, &c. Third, Elegant walking dress. 

CODFISHE, SEN’R. — Black suit, white cravat. 

CUBBE, ) 

SHANGHAI, ^Exaggerated dress of Young America. 

BRICKE, &c. j 

SIMPSON. — Undress naval uniform. 

HARRY MANLY. — Dress of Drygoods Porter. 

CORINTHIAN KATE. — First, Travelling dress. Second, Elegant 
ball dress. Third , Gentleman’s suit. Fourth , Morning dress. 

SUE. — The same. 

CLEMENTINA, ) First, Elegant ball dress. Second, Fashionable 

CELESTINA, ) morning dress. 

MRS. CODFISHE. — Very fine evening dress, more gaudy than 
tasteful. 

STREET CELEBRITIES. — As near to the originals as possible. 


<2tast of ti)e <2t|)aracters.— (Life in New York, 1856.) 


J 


Corinthian Tom , - 

Jerry Hawthorn , - 

Bob Logic, - - 

Tom Smith, - 

Captain, the Hon. Fitzgammon Bowlingrcen 
Laforte, - > 

Count Marie Sulpice Sebastian Nybobbe , J 
James Trollop Fidler Dickens Greene , 
Skinneflynte Codjishe, Esq. - 
Harry Manly, - 

Cubbe Codjishe, - 

Jollie Bricke, - - - 

Slimm Shanghai, - 

Lejeune Rooster, - 

Thinshanke, - 

Lieutenant Simpson, - 

Four Cent Man', - 

Cuffee, - - 

Apple Woman, - 

Newsboys, - 


Mr. Fisher, 

- James Dunn 

- Canoll, 

- Brougham, 

- Whiting, 

- James Seymour, 

- Bellamy, 

- Grosvenor, 

- Haviland, 

- F. Hodges, 

- Baker, 

- Randall, 

- Denham 

- Carpenter, 

- Lingard, 

- Bogart, 

- Post, 

$ J. Moore and 
' W. Bogart, 


Hackmen,Slree£ Celebrities, | Messrs Bunl)eei 0[iverj Sn)ith> && 

Corinthian Kate, - - - Madame Ponisi, 

Sue Hawthorn, - Miss Kate Reignolds, 


Clementina Victorina Codjishe , 
Celestina Eugenie Codjishe, - 
Fanny, - 
Mrs. Codjishe, 

Visitors, Dancers, tfc. 


Emma Taylor, 
McDonough, 

F. Denham, 
Mrs. Dunn, 

Corps de Ballet. 


STAGE DIRECTIONS, 


EXITS AND ENTRANCES. 

L. means First Entrance, Left. R. First Entrance, Right. S. E. L. 
Second Entrance , Left. S. E. R. Second Entrance, Right. U. E. L. 
Upper Entrance , Left. TJ. E. R. Upper Entrance, Right. C. Centre. 
L. C. Left of Centre. R. C. Right of Centre. T. E. L. Third Entrance, 
Left. T. E. R. Third Entrance, Right. C. D. Centre Door. D. R. 
Door Right. D. L. Door Left. U. D. L. Upper Door , Left. U. D. R. 
Upper Door, Right. 

*** The Reader is supposed to be on the Stage, facing the Audience. 


LIFE IN NEW YORK 


ACT I. 

Scene I. — Canal-street Wharf. — Crowd of Cabmen , Newsboys, SfC ., 

discovered. 

OPENING CHORUS. 

Cheer, boys, cheer, and raise the jolly chorus, 

There, boys, here the gallant steamer comes ; 

Cheer, boys, cheer, good luck may be before us — 

Charge double fare, boys, and cheat the Johnny raws. 

CHORUS. 

Here’s the Astor House, and here’s the St. Nicholas, 

And here’s the Metropolitan, New York, and many more : 
We’ll take you there for a fare that’s quite ridiculous — 

Such accommodation you have never seen before. 

This way, man, where are you pushing to 1 
That’s my fare ; no, it ain’t; you lie, it is ! 

Here, sir, here, where the blazes are you rushing to 1 
Clear out, or else, by Jerico, I’ll spile your pretty phiz. 

Travellers pass across. — One lady drops her boa in the muss . — 
Newsboys cry , “ Herald — Extra Express, second edition,” dec. tfc. 

Enter Tom and Jerry from Steamer. 

Tom. Well, Jerry, my boy, here we are, breathing the liberal free 
air of this glorious Republic — standing upon the honored soil of this 
great pioneer country — ever foremost in human advancement. 

Jerry. Buncombe, Tom, buncombe ! 

Tom. No, upon my soul ; I despise the article too utterly to indulge 
in it ; but I rejoice at the opportunity to see, hear and judge for my- 
self, and not pin my faith upon the interested statements of disappointed 
intriguers or the stupid observations of ignorant tourists. 


LIFE IN NEW YORK. 


5 


Jerry. Oh, yes, your remarks will be extremely sensible no doubt, 
inasmuch as your avowed intention is just to have a larking run through 
the States for the fun of the thing. If I hadn’t had a trifle too much 
of your frapped champagne, I wouldn’t have left my darling little wife 
for so long a time. 

Tom. Nonsense, man ! you’ll see more of the world than you ever 
dreamt of in your philosophy, Jerry ; and as for our better halves, they 
think — poor, confiding souls — that we are gone to the highlands for a 
little grouse-shooting. Capital safety-valve the game-season, Jerry ! 

Jerry. Egad, it is ; a shooting-jacket and a double-barrelled manton 
has put the winkers upon many a poor woman’s eyes before now. 

Tom. Where is that jolly, unprincipled, good-natured, entirely un- 
dependable biped Bob Logic 1 I wrote him word we were coming : he 
ought to have been here to meet us. He has been in this country about 
six years now, and I depend upon him to trot us round a few. 

Jerry. If there’s anything worth jotting down, he’s sure to drop 
on it. 

Tom. I anticipate fun from our cockney friend Greene. Of course, 
he’s going to take notes ; it’s just such thick-headed boobies that do so, 
and their incomprehensible rigmaroles are taken for gospel truth by 
their fellow-boobies at home. Ah, here are our people. 

Enter Tom Smith and Jaques Laforte, carrying coats, hat-boxes , tyc. 

from Steamer. 

Tom. You, find a carriage, we must explore by ourselves. 

Smith. Yes, sir, directly, sir — toot sweet, as my friend the frog ob- 
serves. 

Jerry. Laporte, everything attended to ? 

Laforte. Oui, Monsieur, all right — gud-dem, as mon ami the bool 
wunce parlez. 

Tom. You are a couple of impudent scoundrels as ever were unhung, 
I believe. 

Smith. Oh, sir, really too much of a grong complemong to speak 
after the fashion of the frog. 

Laforte. Oui, to be sure, very muche dam sight. 

Tom. You have improved the occasion of the voyage to give each 
other some instruction in your respective languages, I perceive. 

Smith. Wee, Mounseer ; the frog has imparted to your humble ser- 
vant a few elegant phrases of his indispensable cackle among foreigners. 

Laforte. And I have peeck up plenty much morceaux of his magni- 
figue dam fine vulgar tongue. 

Tom. Ah, you’re a precious pair of scamps, #but useful rascals ; so 
we’ll look over your impertinences. 

Smith. Oh, Mounseer, bung obleegee for frog and self. 

Laforte. Oh, de dam ! Yes, all right, very moche indeed. 

Tom. Away with you, and see the things on the carriage ! 

[Exeunt Smith and Laforte, l. h. 
— W’here the deuce is our cockney friend all this time 1 

Jerry. I’ll lay a wager the fellow is afraid to venture ashore. He 
was asking minute questions about the savages — if they were nu- 


6 


LIFE IN NEW YORK. 


merous and dangerous, or if there were any wild beasts about New 
York. 

Tom. Ha, ha ! — wild beasts enough, I dare say, but not on four legs. 
How can it be otherwise, when, as well as the honest, industrious im- 
migrant, a treasure to any country, the offscourings of vicious humanity 
from every portion of the globe are shamefully let loose upon these 
shores ! 

Greene. [ From Ship.'] You’re sure there ain’t any about 1 

Tom. Here he comes, by Jove ! — note-book and all. Can’t we give him 
a little adventure for his first chapter! See, here’s the very thing. 
[Taking of boa. J Stand aside ; I’ll initiate him. 

[Exeunt Tom and Jerry, l. h. 

Greene comes forward , carrying small valise — business with newsboys. 

Greene. Hallo ! what’s that ; ’ang me if I didn’t think that I ’eard a 
Hindian a yellin’ ; there ain’t nothing. [Sits on a valise.] Now, then, 
to begin my book : I’m goin’ to call it Hamerica and the Hamericans ; 
by James Trollope, Fidler, Dickens, Green, Gent, of Tooley Street, 
London. If that won’t sell ven I gets ’ome agin, I aint no judge. I 
must be very perticular, and not put down nothin’ but what I sees my- 
self, with my hown heyes. I wish I could see one of the hinhabitants, 
I might get the correctest hinformation. 

Enter Cuff, l. h., who takes up valise. 

Hollo ! drop that ; who are you, and what do you want 1 

Cuff. Ha! ha ! luggage toted, boss. 

Greene. Toted, boss ; what sort of language do you call that? 

Cuff. Dat’s American language, boss. 

Greene. Dear me, I can understand some of it quite well. Just let 
that be, Mr. Boss, I can tote it myself. [Writes — “ Language very much 
like English.”] What countryman are you! 

Cuff. Guess I’m an American, boss. 

Greene. Good gracious ! it’s a Hindian with his war paint on. Is that 
paint on your face, mister! 

Cuff. Paint ! ha, ha ! you mus be foolish, I guess ; this nateral 
color, boss, died in de wool. 

Greene. Thank you, sir ; this is really wonderful. May I inquire 
how many of you are in this village 1 

Cuff. Village ; pretty sized village — may be about five or six thou- 
sand when we’re all at home, boss. 

Greene. That’s a jolly lot — ain’t you stretchin’ on it a little ! 

Cuff. Ha. ha ! guess you’re green, ain't you ! 

Greene. Well, now, that is amazin’ ; you know my name, mister ! 

Cuff. Guess I does. They’ve got a place ready for you, boss 

Greene. That’s very kind. Where is it! 

Cuff. At Barnum’s : ha, ha ! you’re one on ’em. [Exit, laughing. 

Greene. Damme, if I -don’t think that there native is a laughin’ at 
me : never mind, I got some hinformation. Here goes to pop it down. 
[ Writes .] “Landed at a little village, called New York, containing 
between six and seven thousand hinhabitants, the color of which is 


LIFE IN NEW YORK. 7 

black, surrounded by a wery hodoriferous hatmosphere, smelling mostly 
of tar and other wegetables.” 

Tom. [Outside.'] A snake, a snake ! 

Greene. A what I Oh, Lord, a snake ! where is it 1 

Enter, l. h., Tom and Jerry — bustle. Greene gets on valise. 

Greene. Oh, it’s me ; I’m bit — I’m pisoned. 

Tom. Don’t be alarmed, Mr. Greene, the monster is no more. 

Greene. But I’m bit, I tell you. 

Tom. I hope not ; where, Mr. Greene 1 

Greene. Here, in the calf. 

Jerry. He couldn’t well have missed that. 

Greene. Is the dreadful thing dead 1 

Tom. Yes, here it is. 

Greene. I dare not look at it — take it away. 

Jerry. Nonsense, don’t be cowardly. 

Greene. Oh, what an ’orrible-looking hanimal ; where’s its ’ead. 

Tom. Oh ! Jerry, cut it off and flung it into the river ; but surely 
your fears have led you into an error : you haven’t been really bitten by 
the venomous reptile 1 

Greene. Venomous ! Yes, I have ; it’s a smarting now like any- 
thing. 

Tom. Then it is my duty, as a friend, to tell you to make your will. 

Greene. Oh. Lord, don’t say that ; is it poisonous 1 

Jerry. Deadly ! 

Tom. Past all surgery. I know that species of creature well. 

Greene. Oh dear, oh dear, what is it called 1 

Tom. The learned name for it, according to Audubon, is the syphax 
spifllicatibus, but it is usually denominated the hairy-headed boa con- 
strictor. 

Greene. Oh, Lord ! the name’s enough to frighten the life out of a 
fellow. I begin to feel very sick. 

Tom. Yes, the poison is rapid, first the part bitten will swell enor- 
mously. 

Greene. I feel it puffing out. 

Tom. Then your senses will suddenly go, one by one ; your hearing 
first, then your eyesight, and so on, until death relieves the sufferer’s 
anguish. [Tom and Jerry pantomime. 

Greene. Oh, my gracious ! speak hout ; it’s true, I can’t hear a syl- 
lable. I’m a swelling like a barrel, and my sight is going ; won’t you 
make a heffort to save a fellow. Oh, Lord, a doctor, a doctor — were’s 
a doctor ? [Exit. Tom and Jerry laugh. 

Tom. There’s an item for his new book. Ah ! here comes our friend 
Logic ; better late than never. 

Enter Logic, l. h. 

Logic. Ha ! my prince of roysterers and prime coves, welcome to the 
land of the free and the home of the brave. Good passage, boys, eh I 
pay much tribute to old Neptune 1 no respecter of persons is his marine 
majesty. 


8 


LIFE IN NEW YORK. 


Jerry. Capital passage ; smooth as a billiard table. 

Tom. Splendid boat ; glorious Captain. 

Logic. Old Joe Comstock, I believe you, my boy, [one of the right 
sort 

Tom. Here we are, safe and sound, wives snug at home, think we 
are on a shooting affair up the country, — ready for life in the new 
world, and depending on you to show us the lions. 

Logic. I’m ready for anything from pitch and toss to bank breaking ; 
tolerably well posted, know the ropes beyond a bit, can introduce you 
to all the swell coves. 

Jerry. That’s just what we want, to see life in all its varied phases, 
high, low, and middling, in this glorious land, whose star-gemmed ban- 
ner floats over 

Logic. Lethe, Jerry, Lethe. That sort of bosh is played out ; ex- 
cept among small politicians and bar-room wire-pullers. 

Tom. Wire-pullers — I’m not a fly. 

Jerry. I’m not down. 

Logic. Ah ! I’ll enlighten your ignorant puppy-hood in due time, 
suffice it for the present to say, that everything in this steam power 
country is done by machinery, from stitching coat seams to manufac- 
turing public officers. 

Tom. Ah ! we’ll have nothing to do with that, while we remain 
guests in so hospitable a house it would ill become us to find fault with 
its domestic arrangement. 

Logic. Come, boys, we have got rooms for you at the Astor, there 
we’ll talk over our plans. 

Tom. Have with you, my jolly cosmopolitan, and it will be our own 
fault if we don’t improve the time famously. 

Come away, come away, 

On our sprees and rambles gay ; 

Come away, come away, 

Life’s with us a holiday. 

Some to warm, none to harm, some to cherish, none betray, 

To take the world easy is the wisest way. [ Exeunt , e. h. 

Enter from ship, Kate, Sue, and Officer. 

Officer. Now ladies, I will put you in a carriage, when our guard- 
ianship, which I trust has not been a rigorous one, will cease. \Exit. 

Kate. You are very kind, sir. There they go, the deceitful monsters : 
to try and make us believe they were only going a few miles into the 
country ; and then to dare to travel all this distance without either 
taking us or telling us of their intention. But, it shall go hard if we 
don’t pay them off for such shameful conduct, thanks to our borrowed 
curls and complexions ; I think we should be enabled to mystify them 
should we meet face to face. 

Sue. Dear me, how glad I am to breathe freely again, after being 
obliged to keep ourselves close prisoners on board ; for my part I’ll 
never forgive my scapegrace husband. 

Kate. Make no resolutions, dear, till we see how they behave them- 
selves. I have a letter of introduction to a lady here, whom they are 


0 LIFE IN NEW YORK. 

certain to visit, and it will be capital fun to watch their proceedings 
while they imagine us thousands of miles off. 

Enter Officer. 

Officer. Carriage is here, ladies ; permit me to attend you. 

[Exeunt, l. h. 

Scene II. — Apartment in Hotel. 

Enter Smith and Laforte, with overcoat , l. h. 

Smith. [/Site.] Frog, I am in possession of a magnific idea. 

Laforte. Vat you call him, Bool! 

Smith. Dost thou carry a soul above livery, frog ! 

Laforte. Oui, certainment, a bas les buttons. 

Smith. You wish then to be a gentleman frog! 

Laforte. All de times, oui, bedam, to be sure. 

Smith. Take my advice and follow my example, mon cher frog, and 
it is done. 

Laforte. Mon Dieu, combien, Monsieur Smit. 

Smith. Our master’s wardrobe is at hand, let us cast off the grub 
and emerge into the papillote of fashion, worthy frog: heiresses are 
abundant, and foreign noblemen scarce ; you wouldn’t make a bad look- 
ing count, most eligible frog, and I flatter myself I could pass for a 
milord amongst these title-blinded parvenues, as well as any man of 
my inches. 

Laforte. Be dam, I like your idee, Monsieur Bool; it would be a 
grande coup. 

Smith. A wonderful coo, provided we find the pigeons, most sensible 
frog, so let us borrow the toggery and go it, old sacrebleu. 

Laforte. Allons, mon ami, be dam. [ Goes to open valise. 

Smith. Frog, you’re a fool — no presence of mind. [ Writes note.'] I'll 
give you a lesson in conveyancing ; listen and remember, tadpole. 

Laforte. How be dam ze devil you do him, Smit. 

Smith. Behold, simplest of frogs. [Reads.] “ Respected sir, — Having 
had the great misfortune to lose your valise on the way here, we dare 
not meet your just anger, we have fled the country. Imploring your 
forgiveness, farewell, best of masters. Your truly repentant, &c., &c. 

Laforte. Oh, by gar, diable, by dam, you big fellow. Very good way ; 
me respect your infiniment. 

Smith. Come, lay hold, luck’s all, and the world is before us. When 
the game’s won, we’ll share and share alike. Hurrah! damn it, here 
they are. Fortunately there’s another door. [ Exeunt , with valise , l. h. 

Enter Tom, Jerry, and Logic, laughing. 

Logic. And you persuaded him he had been bitten, eh'! 

Jerry. Nearly frightened the fellow’s life out ; however, he’s all right 
now. We sent for him here ; Tom means to give him another dose. 

Tom. Hallo ! here’s a pretty affair, Jerry ; Smith and your fellow have 
bolted. Read this. Confound it, what the deuce shall we do! the 


10 


LIFE IN NEW YORK. 


devil take the valise. Who’d have supposed those brazen scoundrels 
would take its loss so much to heart 1 

Jerry. ’Pon my life, I pity the poor fellows ; but they’ll be back again, 
I’ve no doubt. 

Tom. I hope so ; but what shall we do for clothes 1 I haven’t another 
change. Bob, is there any way of getting a hasty rig out ? 

Bob. Bless your unsophisticated simplicity, why I’ll lay you a hun- 
dred to one, that I could dress a good sized city full of admissible indi- 
viduals even though you were as particular as her majesty’s chamber- 
lain, in a quarter of an hour. 

Tom. Bravo ! that’s all correct, by Jove Jerry, our friends have been 
early, here’s a perfect pack of invitation cards ; one for to-night at Mrs. 
Skinneflynte Codfishe’s grand affair — silver and gold ; who are they, 
Bob 1 

Logic. Worthy people enough, but inveterate lion hunters ; you’ll be 
well entertained there, though you’ll meet with a somewhat mixed assem- 
blage. The old gentleman has accumulated a pretty large fortune. 
There are two daughters, highfalutin young arcadians. 

Tom. High what ? 

Bob. A local but very expressive phrase, not exactly a ripstaver, or a 
topsawyer, or a sockdollager ; they are amazingly proper young upper- 
crustesses : they can pound the piano, murmur a little not over choice 
Italian, and chaw up a trifle of bad French, squall unintelligible duets, 
and go into extacies about that darling Mario, or that duck Brignoli. 

Tom. Egad that’s about the sum total of fashionable feminine edu- 
cation all over the civilized world. We’ll go, however, will you be 
there, Bob. 

Logic. Wouldn’t miss it fora thousand. [Gong for dinner. 

Tom. What the deuce is that? 

Logic. A welcome sound to the hungry lodgers ; that’s the dinner 
gong. [Greene rushes in. 

Tom. What’s the matter 1 

Greene. Oh ! I don’t know ; don’t you hear ? I did it, I didn’t know 
it though ; what can it mean and what’s going to become of us. I 
just simply touched what I supposed was the bell, and this infernal tu- 
mult broke out. What is it — oh, what is it ? 

Logic. Don’t be alarmed, sir ; you happened to 

Tom. Hush! I have an idea, second me, Jerry. Tell him this is a 
lunatic asylum ; I’ll have a touch. Bob will do for a doctor. Ha ! 
ha! ha! 

Greene. What on earth’s that 1 

Jerry. Poor Tom ! why don’t you know where you are, Mr. Greene ? 

Greene. No. How the deuce should 1 1 

Jerry. This is the great lunatic asylum of the State. 

Greene. Good gracious ! and I wandering about by myself. No 
wonder I raised such an unearthly noise ; but has he — how did he 
catch it — is it infectious here 1 

Jerry. This is the principal physician. He can tell you. 

Logic. The disease is prevalent, but not exactly contagious ; there 
are millions of insects in the air, the bite from one of which induces in- 
stant madness. 


LIFE IN NEW YORK. 


11 


Greene. Good heavens, where’s my book ? Oh, doctor, what a coun- 
try ! are there any about here I 

Logic. No doubt. Strangers are in great danger all the time. 

Greene. I’ll remove this week, I’ll go home by the next ship. Oh ! 
look at him ! see, he’s going to do something terrible. 

Logic. Don’t be alarmed, sir ; the raging fit cannot last many 
minutes. 

Greene. I dare say ; but there’s no knowing what he may do while 
he’s in it ; what is he mad about “! 

Jerry. Fanny Ellsler ; takes everybody for her. Poor fellow ! 

Tom. Ah ! there she is at last! Fanny ! my Fanny ! 

Greene. Go away, I a’nt your Fanny. 

Tom. Ha ! recall that dreadful word, or wretched ruin, bloody, deep, 
and sweeping, shall engulph us both within the boiling, burning, bub- 
bling, black, bituminous abyss of blazing Beelzebub ! Ah, Fanny ! en- 
chanting sylph, be merciful. 

Greene. He’s getting easier. 

Tom. Wretch, syren, sorceress, insatiable and merciless! give me 
back my soul. 

Greene. Upon my soul, I havn’t got your soul. 

Tom. Thou lyest, Sycorax ; you’re standing on it now ; give it me 
back, or by the great pennywhistle — ah ! I’ll tear you peacemeal and 
feed mosquitos with each separate morsel. [ Bustle and exeunt , l. h. 

Scene III. — Mrs. Codfishe’s Ball Room — Company discovered dancing 

— After dance. 

Shang. ’Scrutiatingly warm, Miss Seraphina. 

Seraph. Dreadful to a degree. 

Shang. Might I insinuate a Roman Punch, or would you prefer a 
cream. 

Seraph. Cream at present. 

Thinshanke and Clementina come forward , eating an ice. 

Thin. Great invention, ice, Miss Clementina. 

Clem. Extraordinary, so deliciously cold. 

Thin. Rooms filling up nicely. 

Clem. Very. 

Thin. Going into the country soon 1 

Clem. Oh, yes ; no one stays in town. I do so languish for solitude 
and Saratoga. 

Mrs. Cod. Clementina, my love, (pray excuse me a moment, Mr. 
Thinshanke,) my darling, you have danced twice with him, you’ll com- 
promise yourself, if you don’t be very prudent. Ah ! here comes your 
brother, and with him a very eligible young man ; slightly given to the 
indulgence of the table, but very, very wealthy. 

Enter Bricke and Cubbe Codfishe, c. d. 

Welcome, my dear young friends. I hope I see you in good health. 


12 


LIFE IN NEW YORK. 


Bricke. Look at us, Mrs. Codfishe, don’t we look as hearty as four year 
olds. 

Cubbe. And as fine as fiddles. 

Mrs. Cod. Might we not say a little too fine, Mr. Bricke 1 My son, 
you have been indulging a little beyond the bounds of propriety. 

Cubbe. Not bit, ma. Champagned ourselves into the proper amount 
of courage to meet the lit’ angels, you know, seraphs of society. Apro- 
pos, we brought a couple of glorious fellows with us, — tip toppers — 
foreigners. 

Mrs. Cod. I hope you are certain of their eligibility, Cubbe. 

Bricke. All serene, honored parent. You don’t suppose we’d intro- 
duce anything but highfalutin fellows, knowing how particular you are. 
Ah, here they come. 

j Enter Smith and Laforte, announced by servant. 

Cubbe. Mrs. Codfishe, allow me to present the 'scuze me, I can’t 

remember name. 

Smith Hang me if I don’t forget it myself. Oh, Captain, the Hon- 
orable Lord Fitzgammon Bowlingreene — 

Mrs. Cod. Honorable — oh, my lord, delighted. 

Cubbe. The Count a [ Servant announces.] The Count Anatole 

Sebastian, Sulpice de la Mybobbe. 

Laforte. Anatole Sebastian 

Cubbe. Annamatilda, Sea Bass. 

Laforte. Mon Dieu ! no. Anatole Sebastian Sulpice de la Mybobbe. 

Cubbe. Ah, that’s it. These infernal foreign names are so hard to 
remember. Anna Maria Seabass Sculpin Squybobbe, intimate friend 
of the emperor’s. [Aside. 

Mrs. Cod. Enchanted to have the honor. My daughters, Celestina 
Victoria, and Clementine Eugenia Codfishe. 

Smith. Might I have the aw — to aw 

Mrs. Cod. Both the dear girls are engaged ever so far ahead ; but of 
course their partners will have to give way out of deference to nobility. 

Laforte. Oh, madarne, je suis ravissante e’est une compliment, vat 
you call ver large size. 

Clem. Oh, Count, you are so entertaining. 

Laforte. Permittez moi to take little walk about wit L’Empresse of 
de assembly, and make a die wiz envi all de folk beside. 

[Kate, Sue, and Mrs. Codfishe, pass along. 

Kate. Our runaway swains will scarcely be here to-night. My 
wretch will find it difficult to recognize me with these blonde ringlets. 

Sue. I flatter myself I am sufficiently changed, at least, to mystify 
my monster — as I live, Kate, here they are. You must not forget to 
assist us [To Mrs. Codfishe, 

Enter Tom and Jerry. 

Smith. Prog, we’re floored — stop, I wouldn’t know you — I dare say 
I am equally unrecognizable. Let us brazen it out. 

[Business. — They walk round Tom and Jerry. 


LIFE IN NEW YORK. 13 

Mrs. Cod. Most happy to see you, gentlemen ; pray make yourselves 
at home. You’ll find but little ceremony here. 

Torn. Oh, madame! egad I’ve found nothing else. 

Mrs. Cod. They are about to form for a polka quadrille ; allow me to 
find you partners. 

Jerry. Only too happy, madame. 

Tom. Proud and happy ! 

Mrs. Cod. [Leads forward Sue.] Allow me, Mr. Hawthorn — Miss 
Fox. 

Jerry. Miss Fox, I am delighted to Hallo, Tom, look there ! 

Tom. What’s the row '! 

Jerry. Did you ever see such a resemblance 1 

Tom. Wonderful ! 

Jerry. Pardon me, Miss — ah, what did she say 1 

Sue. Fox, sir. 

Jerry. The voice exactly, by Jupiter ! But it can’t be, allow me — 

Mrs. Cod. [ With Kate.] Permit me, Mr. Corinthian — Miss Ara- 
bella Fox. 

Tom. A nest of Foxes hereabout ! Miss Arabella, I Hallo, 

Jerry ! Why, Kate ! 

Kate. Sir, my name is Arabella. 

Tom. Fox 1 

Kate. Fox. 

Tom. Jerry, here’s another wonderful likeness — a little taller than 
my wife, and better looking considerably. 

Kate. The deceitful wretch ! 

Tom. Miss, a 

Kate. Fox. 

Tom. Yes, I know ; may I anticipate the pleasure of dancing with 
you ? 

Kate. It is the desire of my soul. 

Tom. Hallo, enthusiastic ! 

Kate. I’m a strange girl, Mr. Corinthian, and despise the cold phleg- 
matic formality of social life ; my impulses are immediate, and I scru- 
ple not to give them an embodied form. There is an indescribable 
something — pray forgive my forwardness— a magnetic attraction about 
you that I find it impossible to repel. 

Tom. Hallo ! Thank you, madam. I’m very much obliged to you. 

Kate. Pardon the abruptness of the question — are you a married 
man 1 

Tom. Oh dear, no, madam, not yet. 

Kate. No ! The atrocious villain ! 

Tom. Hang me, if she ain’t in earnest ! What the deuce is she 
gone away for 1 

Sue and Jerry come down. 

Sue. I quite agree with you, sir, that love at first sight is the most 
natural, as well as the most enduring ; but you must have loved so 
often. 

Jerry. Never ! — angelic being, never, until this moment. 


14 


LIFE IN NEW YORK. 


Sue. Oh, listen to this ! Indeed, we were under the impression that 
you were a married man. 

Jerry. Ridiculous ! What could have put that in your head 1 — time 
enough. There’s no knowing at what instant it may now be my fate. 
Stay, charming creature. [Sue goes to Kate. — They talk together. 

Tam. Where’s your partner, Jerry I 

Jerry. Started like a hare. [ Enter Logic, c. d.] Bob, what have you 
done with our friend Greene \ Couldn’t you find him 1 

Logic. Oh, yes, he’s here. What do you suppose I have done with 
him 1 — gave him an opium pill in a brandy-cocktail, and when he was 
in the arms of murphy, stretched a dress-coat on him and carried him 
here. You know he hadn’t an idea that such an assemblage as this 
could be congregated here ; so I want to see his astonishment when he 
wakes up. I’ve told my friend, Mrs. Codfishe, and she will humor the 
joke. Ah, here the servants are. 

[Greene brought on in chair. — Places for the Polka Quadrille. 
— Dance. — At the conclusion Greene wakes up , and gazes round 
in astonishment. 

Greene. Good gracious, where am I ! — at a ball — at the Lord Mayor’s, 
I do believe — lovely women — all strangers ! Am I asleep or awake, or 
dead and buried 1 I’m bewitched and bewildered ! 

[ Guests surround Greene. 

Guests. [ All in turn.'] Glad to see you, Mr. Greene. 

Greene. Everybody knows me, and I don’t know anybody ; it’s really 
very astonishing. Oh, I declare here’s my old friend Corinthian Tom ! 
Oh, I’m so glad to see you ! Where am I, Tom 1 

Tom. You have the advantage of me, sir ! 

Greene. Why, ain’t you Tom as come over with me in the steamer 1 

Tom. Certainly not, General. Your Royal Highness forgets your 
old acquaintance. I am Napoleon Bonaparte. 

Greene. You don’t tell me that ! — how are you 1 Why, there’s Jerry. 

Tom. Jerry 1 No ; sire; your majesty is now looking at Cardinal 
W 7 olsey. 

Greene. It’s a dream, but a jolly one. I hope I won’t wake up in a 
hurry. [ Servant with ice.] What’s all this 1 

Servant. Take an ice, sir. 

Greene. A nice what 1 

Servant. An ice-cream, sir. 

Greene. Is it fit to heat 1 

Tom. I have just concocted it out of superior shaving soap. 

Greene. [Eats.] Oh, lord ! — soap, as I’m a sinner ! — and very indif- 
ferent soap, too. 

Kate. Is there anything we can do for your majesty 1 

Sue. Your Royal Highness has only to command us. 

Greene. What an account of this dream I’ll give in my book if I 
only recollect it in the morning ! What beautiful creatures there is all 
about me ! I’ve a great mind to — damme, I will ; where’s the use in 
dreaming if one doesn’t go the whole hog ! I say, Miss, is it your 
opinion that I’m asleep ! 

Sue. I should say you were, your Grace. 


LIFE IN NEW YORK. 15 

Greene. A man ain’t accountable for what he does when he's asleep, 
is he 1 

Kate. Certainly not. 

Greene. Damme, then, here goes ! 

[ Tries to kiss the ladies. — They scream. — Guests interfere. — Busi- 
ness — Confusion. 


END OF ACT FIRST. 


ACT II. 

Scene I. — Interior o/Mr. Codfishe’s Ready Made Shirt establishment 

— Clerks discovered lounging about — Enter Harry Manly with a box 

of goods. 

Cubbe. Ah, you’re the new porter ; done much of this thing, my 
friend 1 

Harry. Not a great deal, sir ; but willing to do my best. 

Cubbe. If you keep your own counsel that won’t be much. You 
must work like blazes when the governor’s by ; never see nor hear 
anything that goes on in his absence, do our private little errands, and 
we’ll make it all right. 

Harry. I am but little used to deceit, sir ; I shall do my duty, how- 
ever, as a man. and like a man ; if I suit you, retain me, if you don’t 
suit me, you’ll give me leave to exercise a like discretion. 

Cubbe. Rather independent, but we’ll see. I’m afraid he won’t do 
for us. 

Bricke. I’m afraid not. 

Shang. How did you finish up, Cubbe ? 

Cubbe. Oh, the usual way ; pitched into some soft crabs and a few 
bottles of Cabinet at Shelley’s with Bricke and Rooster ; afterwards 
dropped a hundred or two at the club ; prime sport, war’nt it, Bricke 1 

Bricke. Oh ! jolly ! 

Cubbe. Got home at six, took bath and breakfast, and here I am as 
fresh as a lark. Governor’s lazy this morning ; any goods come in, 
Rooster ? 

Rooster. Five dozen from that party, the widow, you know. 

Cubbe. The Governor’s protege 1 They were paid for of course 1 

Rooster. Oh, distinctly 1 

Cubbe. All serene ; any others ? 

Rooster. Nothing but a few samples. 

Cubbe. Paid for in the usual way. Great dodge, that; here comes old 
belzebub. 

Enter old Codfishe in solemn black, all rush to employment. 

Cod. A little past my time this morning, young gentlemen ; bad ex- 
ample, very bad. I fine myself one dollar for charitable purposes. 

{Puts money in tin box. 

Bricke. I say, Chubbe, where does the tin go ! 


16 


LIFE IN NEW YORK. 


Cubbe. Back into his pocket, you fool, of course, and ours along 
with it. 

Cod. Ah ! it is some slight atonement for our trivial errors when 
they are made subservient to deeds of blessed charity. 

Cubbe. {aside.) Blessed humbug ; that’s played out, old Skinflint, 
charity begins at home, and if I didn’t keep the books, hang me if I 
could keep myself a week. 

Cod. Have we been doing anything this morning? 

Cubbe. Well, pretty fair, but not over profitable ; five dozen fine 
linen from 4th Avenue, paid for, highest price. 

Cod . Hem 1 yes — very distressing case, we must not close our 
hearts against all wretchedness. 

Cubbe. Beg pardon, Governor, didn’t know your heart was inter- 
ested. 

Cod. Don’t be frivolous, sir. 

Cubbe. All serene : that’s a dig in the ribs, old bluebeard. 

Cod. I must give Maria a hint. I’m afraid that graceless boy is sus- 
picious. 

Enter Fanny Martin, a poor sewing girl. 

Harry. Good heavens! it’s Fanny — my Fanny! And reduced to 
this ! [ Conceals kimselj. 

Cubbe. Hallo ! here’s a case. 

Bricke. Devilish pretty one, too, by Jove ! 

Cubbe. What’s your business, my little dear? 

Fanny. I have brought back the work, sir, with which I was en- 
trusted. 

Bricke. Work? — oh! — the boss always attends to that. Hang me 
if I can do it yet ! 

Cod. Work, my dear? Yes, I remember ; a dozen to try your hand 
upon. 

Fanny. Yes, sir. I am in great hope that they will satisfy you, sir, 
although I am not used to such work : sad reverses have driven me to 
it for the support of an aged and, 1 fear, dying mother ! 

Cod. I deeply deplore your necessities, my dear young lady. But 
were we to follow the natural inclinations of our hearts, we would all 
be similarly situated. Oh ! dear, dear; this will never do ! Stuff com- 
pletely spoiled 1 Throw it aside : we must put up with the loss. 

Fanny. Then, my last hope is gone! Oh, mother! mother! Let 
me have the small amount I left on deposit. 

Cod. My dear child, you are unreasonable. Who is to recompense 
me for the valuable material, wasted and good for nothing ? 

Fanny. I did not think of that. 

Cod. The money is forfeited, of course. But, in order to encourage 
you, I’ll give you a dozen more, to see if you can do better. 

Fanny. Must I go back to my poor dying mother without anything ! 
Oh ! sir, if it was ever such a trifle ! 

Cod. It’s our way of doing business, my dear child. Justice to 
others compels me reluctantly to refuse you. 

Fanny. Then, heaven knows what is to become of me ! 


LIFE IN NEW YORK. 


17 


BricTce. I say, Bob, 1 can’t stand this. Have you got 50 cents 1 

Rooster. I was just going to ask you. This is running the thing into 
the ground. 

Bricke. Here’s a dollar. Hush ! Keep dark, or we’ll catch Jessy ! 

Cubbe. Come here, my love. You’re very pretty ! By Jove, you are ! 
And if you’ll just tell me where you live, I’ll make it all right. 

Harry. [ Starts up.~\ Stand back ! sir. Keep your polluted touch 
away from that pure child 1 

Fanny. Harry here ! Oh, thank heaven ! I was getting frightened ! 

Harry. Enough to make you, in this nest of villains, my poor 
Fanny ! 

Cod. How 1 How, sir 1 who may you be ! 

Cubbe. That’s your new porter. And, I must say, he comes out 
strong. 

Cod. The porter ! 

Harry. Aye, the porter ! And servant and drudge, though I am, I 
feel myself a prince, before such mean souled scoundrels as you ! 
scoundrels and swindlers I wicked, uncharitable, unchristian like, and 
dastardly swindlers ! Oh, it’s a brave and noble deed, is it not ? to 
speculate upon the life’s blood of suffering poverty ! to select for your 
victims the weakest and most defenceless of human kind ] Have you 
sisters, mothers, wives or daughters 1 And fear you not that every 
pang coming from the heart of misery will be redoubled upon theirs] 
Shame upon you ! Shame and eternal disgrace ! 

Fanny. Dear Harry, for my sake, don’t anger them ! they are power- 
ful to harm you ! 

Harry. Harm me, Fanny] Ha ! ha ! Look at them. Do you sup- 
pose that fellows who eat, and drink, and get rich upon the slowly 
wasting lives of women have pluck enough to look a man in the face ] 
Much less to raise a finger against him. Come, Fanny, let us get where 
the air is not infectious. I’ll see if he won’t give you your money back. 
You may’s well shut up shop, my bold women killer ! Our boys are 
down on that sort of game, and they might save you the trouble. 

[Exit with Fanny. 

Cubbe. Dad, you’re floored. 

Bricke. To a dead certainty. 

Scene II. — Apartment in Hotel . 

Enter Logic and Waiter with Cards. 

Logic. I don’t know these gentlemen’s names, nor is this my apart- 
ment : I am only waiting to see the friends who occupy them. 

Waiter. They say that they watched you in, sir, and have something 
very particular to say to you. 

Logic. If I were across the water, I should smell the sheriff; but 
here I’m pretty safe. 

Waiter. Here they are, sir. 

Enter Kate and Sue as gentlemen. 


Kate. Go! 


[Exit Waiter. 


18 


LIFE IN NEW YORK. 


Logic. To what am I indebted for the honor of this visit, gentlemen ? 

[Both fling themselves on Logic shoulder , crying 

Kate. Oh! we’re the most unfortunate of women ! 

Logic. Women ! 

Sue. Alas, yes ! 

Logic. Why, upon my soul, it can’t be 1 

Kate. Yes, it is ! 

Logic. Phew ! here’s a pretty piece of business ; why, when, and 
how did you arrive here 1 

Kate. In the same ship with our husbands’, and I wish I hadn’t 
thought of such a thing, for I’m miserable. 

Sue. And so am I. 

Logic. It was you, then, we met at Mrs. Codfishe’s elegant soiree, 
the other night 1 

Kate. Yes, yes ; it was there our wretchedness began. Oh, these 
wretches of men ! 

Logic. What have they been doing 1 

Sue. Don’t ask us ; are you not in their confidence"! 

Logic. Not in such delicate affairs. 

Kate. Ha ! there is a delicate affair then 1 [ Rush at him. 

Logic. Upon my life and soul, ladies, I don’t know what you’re talking 
about. 

Kate. These Codfishe girls are very pretty. 

Logic. Lovely. 

Sue. They are going to run off with our husbands. 

Logic. Is it possible I 

Kate. We know it, but I’ll kill that Tom of mine. What do you 
think we’re going to do I 

Logic. Can’t possibly say. 

Kate. We're going to fight a duel ! 

Logic. Quite fashionable, but unnecessary. Shoot them without, or 
knock them in the head while they’re eating their eggs. Depend upon 
it that’s the safest way ! 

Kate. Oh, don’t jest with us ; you know the law would call that 
murder ! 

Logic. So it would, my dear, but a discriminating jury wouldn’t ; and 
yet I don’t know, you might possibly fare badly, for women have no 
vote ! 

Kate. Would you assist us, my dear Mr. Logic. 

Logic. Would, if I could. [Tom, outside — come along. 

Kate. Good gracious, here they are ! we must retire. Will you in- 
troduce us as friends of yours. 

Logic. Well, yes ; I don’t mind. 

Kate. Come, dear, let us calm down our excited feelings. Oh. you 
brute ! [ Exeunt . 

Enter Tom, Jerry and Greene. 

Tom. Here we are, Bob, just had a capital dinner at Delmonico’s. — 
Soup superbe, carte incomparable, Burgundy nectarian. 

Greene. And bill, gigantic. I had to pay it. 


LIFE IN NEW YORK. 


19 


Tom. Now, Bob, ray boy, where shall we go to next 1 ? We’ve been 
to the High Bridge, peered through the City Hall, shook hands with 
his honor the Mayor, fraternized with Captain Rhynders, got nearly 
sun-stricken at a target excursion, lightened our pockets at faro, sa- 
looned at Niblo’s, warmed ourselves at the summer garden, and cooled 
off at the Bowery. What have you to propose 1 

Logic. Egad ! there’s very little else left — thanks to the increasing 
intelligence and self- growing respect of the people — the many dens of 
iniquity with which the city was at one time overrun, and which the 
unthinking kept alive by their injudicious visits, are to be seen no 
more ; or, if they are visible, it is only to the doomed and degraded 
class by which they are sustained. 

Tom. I would not look upon such scenes even if I could, to me 
there is no amusement in degrading vice ; there are plenty of stores 
from whence to draw wholesome and enjoyable fun without ransack- 
ing such filthy receptacles. [ Kate and Sue make signs to Logic. 

Logic. Ah ! by Jove, I forget ; come in, gentlemen. Two young 

friends of mine ; allow me Mr. A . Mr. Corinthian, Mr. a ! 

Mr. Hawthorn, Mr. Greene ; they are anxious to go the rounds with 
us to night. 

Kate. No, no ! 

Sue. Not for the universe. 

Tom. Delighted to show them a little life ; mustn’t shrink from 
hard company, however. 

Logic. Egad, no; our young friends have plenty of courage; 
and as we are going amongst the pugilists, that will be a great advan- 
tage you know. 

Kate. Did you hear that, Sue 1 I shall die with fright. 

Logic. Hang me if I don’t cure you of following your husbands 
about. 

Kate. You’ll excuse us, Mr. Logic, we have a very pressing en- 
gagement. 

Logic. Oh, no. 

Tom. Not at all. 

Greene. By no manner of means ; I havn’t been in a jolly row yet, 
and the sooner we have one the safer it will be. I don’t mind a black 
heye or two myself. 

Kate. But we have an appointment with the young ladies. 

Logic. Say, so have you, for the fun of the thing ! 

Tom. That’s very remarkable ; so have we. 

Kate. Oh, Sue ! I knew it! Where, sir, may I ask? 

Logic. At Taylor’s. 

Tom. Oh! at Taylor’s 1 to eat ice cream. 

Kate. And so forth. 

Tom. And so forth. 

Sue. And you I suppose are similarly engaged for 

Jerry. Precisely. 

Kate. I, ah, you shall hear from me, sir. 

Sue. And so shall you, sir. [ Exit crying , l. h. 


20 


LIFE IN NEW YORK. 


Tom. Well, of all the impertinent young jackdaws, jealous I sup- 
pose. Come Logic, what are we to do old fellow 1 

Logic. Let us ramble about and see what chance will send us in the 
way of a lark 1 

Greene. I’ve heard a great deal about a helephant that’s to be seen 
somewhere about town — let us look for it 1 

Tom. Agreed ! come along. What’s the matter, old fellow 1 

Greene. Dono ! Them cowcumbers was too rich, they always disa- 
grees with me. 

Tom. Allons ! Exercise will do you good — come and walk it off. 

Greene. So say we, all of us. For he’s a jolly good fellow. 

[Exeunt. 

Scene. III. — Tryon Row and part of Centre st. — Set market cart, apple 
stand , soda water, pop corn, weighing machine, 6fC., tyc., every body 
in motion. — Enter the Codfishe party a little elevated. 

Cubbe. Lager beer is a great institution after brandy punch ; it 
keeps down the elevation to a prudent height. 

Fanny enters l. h. 

Fanny. Dear, dear Harry ! I know how you procured this money, by 
what a sacrifice, and never shall I forget it. 

Cubbe. Hello ! here’s our interesting young sewing girl, and by Jove 
without her bullying friend. 

Bricke. Don’t forget yourself, pray. 

Cubbe. Mind your own business. Ah ! my dear, here you are again ; 
ran away from me very unceremoniously, didn’t you ? what do you de- 
serve for it, eh 1 

Fanny. Let me pass, sir, or the police 

Cubbe. Police ! ha ! ha ! that’s a devilish good joke. Where are 
they 1 

Fanny. If you are a gentleman, permit me to pass you. 

Cubbe. Not a bit of it. You insulted me, you and your bounceable 
friend, and damme if I let you go now until I pay part of the debt back. 

Enter Harry. 

Harry. Infamous ruffian, ( floors him) what, not safe from you in the 
open street 1 Look up, dear Fanny! never, never shall you be alone 
again. Get up, vile hound, and sneak of! to your viler kennel. I saw 
that you would have restrained his cowardly assault, and respect you 
for it. Be off, or I’ll strike off another copy in a hurry. 

Cubbe. I’ll be even with you yet, you vagabond. 

Harry. Go. Your threats are as laughably harmless as yourself. 

[Cubbe shows fight, Bricke and others get him off. 

Enter Kate and Sue. 

Kate. Oh, my dear madam ! 

Harry. Stand off! you puppies, or — 

Kate. Don’t, young man, don’t. It was the manliness of your words 


LIFE IN NEW YORK. 21 

just now, that gave me courage to address you. We want to go to the 
St. Nicholas. 

Harry. Well, why in thunder don’t you go? 

Kate. We don’t know the way. 

Harry. You’re a pretty pair of fellows to whimper about it. 

Sue. The fact is, my dear sir, we’re not fellows at all. 

Harry. Phew ! that’s another affair altogether. Come along, then : 
I’ll show you the way. 

Kate. We’ll pay you liberally for it. 

Harry. Pshaw! don’t be foolish. Come along! You can take ono 
on ’em, Fan? [Tom, Jerry, Logic and Greene sing without. 

“ We won’t go home till morning.” 

Kate. We mus’n’t meet those peoplq. 

Harry. But you’ve got to. 

Kate. Don’t you see one of them is exceedingly drunk? 

Harry. Well, he is a little shot, certainly. But what does that 
signify ? we’ll be able to navigate around them. [ Business . 

Logic. By Jupiter ! here’s a rencontre ! You young rascals ! what 
are you doing on this side of the town, eh ! 

Kate. Mercy ! mercy, Mr. Logic ! and I’ll do anything you wish ! 

Tom. Come, my young friends ; you can’t refuse to join us, now. 

Harry. If you don’t want to get into a muss, you better just pass on, 
friends. 

Greene. I want to see the helephant. W’ho the devil are you ? 

Harry. [ Floors him.] There’s my card. You can see it in the glass 
to-morrow, if you look close enough. 

Enter Four Cent Man. The Ham Seller begins his trade ; purchasers ; 

a general row. 

Scene IV. — Room in Codfishe’s Conservatory at back. 

Enter Mr. and Mrs. Codfishe. 

Cod. I tell you I cannot go into the drawing room. I know not the 
moment I may be exposed, ruined ! The character I have toiled to 
raise prostrated at a blow ! We must leave the city ! 

Mrs. Cod. What ! in the middle of the season ? 

Cod. Aye ! in the middle of the night, if I wish it. 

Mrs. Cod. Just now, too, when the girls are on the very point of 
making such enviable and eligible matches. 

Cod. Matches that will never light them to fortune or comfort either ! 
Don’t be a fool, woman. Were these people really what they represent 
themselves to be, would they condescend to accept wives from such a 
source ? 

Mrs. Cod. But beauty, my dear, sometimes makes amends for all. 

Cod. Pah ! leave me : I’m not in the humor to indulge in family 
schemes. 

Mrs. Cod. Ugh ! how cross you are. If it were not for my fore- 
sight, I don’t know what would become of the family. Ah, here are 
their lordships, and with the girls. I declare my heart swells within 


22 


LIFE IN NEW YORK. 


me at the thought of the figure we shall make in the courts of Europe, 
all of us. I do so long to be presented ! 

Cod. Courts of Europe 1 — the alleys of New York, perhaps. [ Exit , 

Enter Smith, Laforte and the two girls , r. h. 1st e. 

Smith. No, no, most delectable ; we must not reveal the blissful event 
just yet : until when we secure the tin, my beloved, then we can brave 
the anger of the old fogies. 

Laforte. En verite, I am overpowerfoole glad, ch&re madame, to see 
you well, be dam ! 

Mrs. Cod. Enjoying a petty promenade, my interesting dears % 

Clem. Yes, mama. My lord has been so kind and so attentive. 

Cel. And so has the count. 

Smith. Shall we saunter through the conservatoire, ma ch6rie? 

Clem. Oui, my lord. 

Laforte. Allons done ! — go yourself before, Smit. 

Smith. Frog, beware ! Come, sweetest ; never shall my love grow 
cold. 

Laforte. Come, beautifulest ; nevare sail my love be froze, be dam ! 
nevare. [ Exit , r. o. 

Enter Tom and Jerry, l. c. 

Tom. Good evening, madame ; you’ll pardon me for following those 
two gentlemen so closely 1 Do you happen to know who they are 1 

Mrs. Cod. Certainly, sir ; one is Count, &c. ; the other, Captain, the 
Honorable, &c., &c. 

Tom. Ah ! they are, are they 1 Will you permit me to have a nearer 
look at their lordships 1 The scoundrels ! there they are, sure enough. 
You are slightly deceived, my dear madame, with regard to the 
names and titles of those distinguished individuals ; but if you will 
ask your daughters to withdraw when they return, and suffer us to take 
their places, you will discover the real position in society of the two 
gentlemen. 

Mrs. Cod. Good heavens ! nothing wrong, I trust, my darling girls ! 

Tom. Nothing, I hope, madame, but be prudent, and above all things, 
don’t let the gentlemen suspect our intention. 

Mrs. Cod. They are coming back — I’ll do as you wish. Oh, my, I’m 
in such a fluster. [Exit, l. c. 

Jerry. How astonished the rascals will be ; it’s just about dark 
enough here to favor our plan. [They return into doors in flat. 

Enter Smith, Laforte, Mrs. Codfishe and the two Girls, r. c. 

Clem. Yes, yes, it will be such fun ; perhaps they are richer and 
nobler than they say. 

Mrs . Cod. Hush ! be prudent. [. Retires with Tom. 

Smith. Delicious twilight hour ! just the propitious moment for a — 
soft nonsense and all that sort of a thingamy. [ Change places. 

Laforte. My happiness is so great, I no have de syllabubs to express 
him, idole of my heart ; what a beautiful good fortune it is mine be 
dam 


LIFE IN NEW YORK. 


23 


Smith. Beloved of my soul ! when is it your intention to sack the 
mopusses ? 

[The Girls enter with lights — Tableaux of dismay. 

Tom. Smith, you scoundrel, have I caught you at last? 

Jerry. Laporte ! you French scelerat, what brought you here ? 

Both. Mercy ! mercy ! 

Mrs C. [ screams .] Swift ! why, who, and what are they 1 

Tom. My vagabond groom. 

Jerry. And my rascally valet. 

Smith. And your daughters’ lawful husbands. Madame, behold the 
documents, signed by Mr. O’Rafferty, the Justice of the Peace. 

Enter Codfishe. 

Cod. What do I hear 1 

Smith. No use in grumbling, old cockalorum, we’re all welded to- 
gether as tight as rivets in a new boiler. 

Mrs. D. Oh, never ! despair ! — distraction ! 

Cod. Out of my house, with you — I disclaim and disown you ; as 
you’ve made your beds, lie in them, but don’t expect a shilling from 
me. Stop and take your wives with you. 

Smith. Oh! dear, no! If I have to advertize for a new situation it 
must be without incumbrances. Good bye, father-in-law, when you are 
in a better temper my darling wife will tell you where to find your 
affectionate son. 

Lap. Me too, by dam, bon jour, to everybody. 

Tom. Stop one moment, the old gentleman will not let his children 
want ; as for you you scoundrels, if you don’t take your respective 
wives and use them well, I’ll have you both sent to spend your solitary 
honeymoon without your spouses in the romantic seclusion of Sing 
Sing. 

Smith. Enough, you’ve conquered. Liberty is sweet even with this 
little drawback. Come wife, there’s a wide field here for those who 
fully desire to amend and begin a new life. 

[Exeunt Smith, Laporte, and girls, l. h. 1 e. 

Cod. All my toil and all my care come to this sad end ! This is 
your fault, if you hadn’t put such ridiculous ideas in their heads it never 
would have happened. 

Mrs. C. No it ain’t, its yours. What care did you ever take to train 
them in the right road l It serves you right. [Exit quarelling, l. h. 

Tom. Just as the twig is bent the tree’s inclined. But come Jerry, 
Bob writes me word that he wants to see us very particularly at the 
hotel, he has another surprise for us he says. I hope an agreeable one. 

Jerry. It won’t be any thing else. [Exit. 

Scene V. — Tom and Jerry. — Tom’s chambers. — Enter Logic. 

Logic. Well, upon my life, it’s a somewhat delicate negotiation with 
which I am entrusted, and I don’t feel altogether assured of diplomatic 
success ; such a concatenation of opposing interests to harmonize. 
Phew, it throws into the shade the Central America entanglement or 
the great sumptuary buff vest and black stock difficulty. I have 


24 


LIFE IN NEW YORK. 


promised my friends Tom and Jerry a surprise, but they little know of 
what complexion. Ah, here they are. 

Enter Tom and Jerry. 

Tom. Well, my high priest of jollity, here we are, stuffed full of ex- 
pectation and ready for adventure, what’s afoot, eh ? anything inter- 
esting 1 

Jerry. Or romantic ! 

Logic. Hush, speak lower ; both romantic and highly interesting. 

Tom. A love affair, eh! any one smitten by Jerry’s manifold attrac- 
tions \ 

Jerry. Any unfortunate, magnetized by Tom’s multifarious accom- 
plishments 1 

Logic. Fortunate fellows both, I have made an appointment for you. 

Tom. Wherel Thou delectable cupid in spectacles ! 

Logic. Here in this very apartment. 

Tom. No ! 

Logic. Yes. 

Tom and Jerry. W T hen ? 

Tom. Where! 

Logic. Now. There are two delicious creatures waiting in all the 
sweet flutter of impatience in yonder room ; shall I be master of the 
ceremonies ! 

Tom. You know them then ! 

Logic. Intimately. Restrain your impatience for an instant. [Goes 
to door and beckons in Kate and Sue, passing Kate, to Tom.] Here ma- 
dame, is the highly to be envied individual you are so anxious to have 
an interview with ; and here madame [ with Sue] is the other equally 
fortunate youth. I hope you will be mutually delighted with each 
other. 

Tom. Oh, madame, I haven’t words to express the, the 

Kate. Haven’t you, really ! 

Tom and Jerry. My wife ! oh, traitor ! [to Logic.'] Weil, there’s no 
help for it now ; Kate ! 

Jerry. Sue. [They embrace. 

Tom. Upon my life and soul, Kate, if there is an individual upon the 
earth Tam most happy to see, it is yourself. 

Jerry. Ditto, Sue, though how it is, and how you came here I cannot 
surmise. 

Tom. Explain, Kate. 

Kate. We came with you and have been near you all the time ; the 
two young impertinents that you protected last night had a greater 
claim to it than you imagined. 

Tom. Were you the oh, how stupidly blind we have been ; but 

all recriminations and annoyances must vanish before the pleasure of 
this meeting. 

Kate. Where is my brave young friend and his sweetheart, Mr. Logic ; 
you promised that he would call here ! 

Tom. Ah, we all owe him something for his courage and timely 
assistance. 


LIFE IN NEW YORK. 


25 


Logic. And most opportunely here he comes, and with him his 
young lady love. [ Enter Harry and Fanny, l. h., Kate and Sue 

shake hands with him. 

Kate. My dear sir, never shall we forget our obligations to you. 

Harry. I beg your pardon, m’am — Miss — I don’t know — I haven’t 
had the pleasure. 

Tom. You protected and assisted those wild young ladies, when they 
were in a position somewhat at variance with the rigid rules of pro- 
priety, and as they happen to be our property, why it is nothing but 
fair that we should pay salvage. 

Harry. I thought they wern’t altogether used to the what’s-his- 
names. I only did what I’d do at any time — see fair play, and make 
the chances even. 

Kate. [To Fanny.] I have heard of that young scapegrace’s despi- 
cable conduct ; but for the future you may rely upon our protection. 

Fanny. I sincerely thank you, ladies, and it is from no disrespect 
that I decline your liberal kindness, but there’s an independent spirit 
here, which tells me it is more praiseworthy to try and help myself. 

Harry. Which she has done, ladies, to a husband, and here he stands 
ready with heart and hand and energy, and heaven’s help, to love and 
cherish, guard and protect her, while the life-blood flows within her 
property shut up in this chest here. 

Tom. You’re a good, noble fellow, and I won’t insult manly feeling 
like yours by the offer of money ; but this you’ll have to do — you must 
accept a loan from me of enough to establish you both in whatever 
business you like best. I have no fear but that I shall be repaid ; for 
manly impulses like yours crowned and stimulated to exertion by a 
love like hers, must swell your adventurous bark with pleasant and 
profitable gales. 

Harry. That’s an offer, sir, a man may take without a blush. So 
there’s my hand — don’t cry, Fanny. 

Fanny. It’s with joy, dear Harry — I don’t know how to express my 
thanks. I wish I did 

Tom. Those tears are more eloquent than words ; so let us dismiss 
the subject for the present. 

Logic. What say you — shall we wind up the evening’s amusement 
by seeing the fireworks at the Park 1 

Tom. Fireworks 1 

Logic. Yes ; this is the evening of the Fourth of July, the anni- 
versary of that glorious day which gave freedom to half the world, and 
whose great influence in time must free the whole. 

Tom. We must assist, of course — come along. [Exeunt. 

Scene Last. — Park and City Hall Illuminated. — Everybody discovered , 
except Tom and Jerry. 

Harry. Here’s a fine place, Fanny — come along. Hallo ! — hang me, 
if there ain’t the purse-proud old woman-killer 1 Who the deuce would 
ever expect to see him here 1 

Codfishe. Don’t turn your back on me, my good fellow. Thanks to 


26 


LIFE IN NEW YORK. 


you, and the influence of some other domestic matters, I have aban- 
doned entirely the soulless traffic in which 1 have been engaged. 

Smith Yes, and henceforth he intends to follow the example of his 
son-in-law, but very recently reconciled and become moderately honest. 

Harry. Then there’s my hand, for to tell the truth, our little adven- 
ture, unpromising though it was, opened a door for prosperity to us we 
never dreamt of, and, as I live, here come our generous friends. 

Enter Tom, Jerry, Kate, and Sue. 

Tom. By Jove, this is an assemblage I little expected ever to see 
amiably gathered together. 

[Smith, Laforte, Mr. and Mas. Codfishe embrace. 

Jerry. Barnum’s Happy Family is nothing to it. 

Logic. Or the harmonious agglomeration of the Hards and Softs. 

Enter Greene, in a dreadful state, his eye black, coat torn, <SfC. 

Greene. Good gracious, what a country ! I’ve seen the helephant at 
last, and no mistake. Look at me ! I’ll go home by the next steamer. 

Tom. How may such a desirable result be accomplished 1 

Codfishe. We’ll all have supper together at my house after the fire- 
works are over, and make mutual explanations. 

Tom. A very sensible proposition. 

Smith. Uncommon. 

Laforte. Superbe, be dam ! 

Tom. And now as all differences are reconciled, may we hope that 
our kind friends here will join in the general satisfaction, and by allow- 
ing Tom and Jerry to prolong their visit, give us many an opportunity 
of mixing in the varied scenes of Life in New York. 

FINALE. 

Now all our fears are over, 

Life in New York just ended, 

And we shall live in clover, 

If but you 

[Voice cries, “ The fireworks !”• — All the characters rush up Stage. 

— Fireworks displayed. — Orchestra plays “ Hail Columbia.” 


CURTAIN. 


BROUGHAM’S 


DRAMATIC WORKS; 


CONSISTING OF A COLLECTION OF 


DRAMAS, COMEDIES AND FARCES, 

BY JOHN BROUGHAM 


SELECTED FROM 

FRENCH’S AMERICAN DRAMA. 


WITH PORTRAIT ON STEEL ; AND MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR 


BY R. SHELTON MACKENZIE, ESQ. 

9 

YOL. I. CONTAINS: 


GAME OF LIFE. 

LOVE AND MURDER, 
DAVID COPPERFIELD, 
TEMPTATION, 


GAME OF LOVE. 
POCAHONTAS, 

DOMBEY AND SON, 
ROMANCE AND REALITY, 


NEW- YORK: 

SAMUEL FRENCH 

% 


121 NASS AU-STREET. 


FRENCH’S 

i 

AMERICAN DRAMA; 


CONSISTING OP A COLLECTION OF 

TRAGEDIES, DRAMAS, COMEDIES, FARCES 

ETC. ETC. 


TO WHICH ABE ADDED, 

A Description of the Costume — Cast of the Characters — Entrances and Exit** 
Relative Positions of the Performers on the Stage, and the whole of the 
Stage Business. 


VOL. I. CONTAINS : 


1. Midsummer Night’s 
Dream. 

2. Popping the Question. 

3. La Tour de Nesle. 

4. Deaf as a Post. 


5. Theresa ; or, The Ob 
phan of Geneva. 

6 Flying Dutchman. 

7. New Footman. 

8. Pleasant Neighbor. 


WITH PORTRAIT AND MEMOIR OP EDWIN FORREST. 


NEW-YORK: 


SAMUEL FRENCH, 

121 NASSAU- STREET. 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



0 012 071 49 



Price 12 ^ Cents each. — Bound Volumes $ 1 . 


VOL. I. 


i. 


Midsummer Night’s 
Dream. 

2. Popping the Question. 

3. I.a I our de Nesle. 

4. Denf as a Post. 

5. Therese ; or. the Or- 

phan of Geneva. 

6. Flying Dutchman. 

7. New Footman. 

8. Pleasant Neighbor. 


VOL. II. 


9. Ireland As It Is. 

10. Game of l.ove. 

11. llag-Pieker of Paris. 

12. Paddy the Piper 

13. Ernestine. 

14. Dombey & Son. 

15. Seven Clerks. 

16. Bryan O’Lynn. 


VOL. III. 


17. Irish Assurai ce. 

18. David Cupperfield. 
J9. Ugalino 

20. Temptation. 

21. Forty Thieves. 

22. Paddy Carey. 

23. Brian Boroihme. 

24. Two Gregories. 


VOL. IV. 

25. Game of Life. 

26. Little Treasure. 

27. King Charming. 

28. Pocahontas. 

29. Romance & Reality. 

30. Sea of Ice 

31. Ch ckmaker’s Hat. 

32. Married Rake. 


VOL. V. 

33. King’s Rival. 

34. Love and Murder. 

35. Carpenter of Rouen. 

36. Ireland and America. 

37. Jewess. [ness 

38. Pretty Piece of Busi- 

39. ' rish Broom Maker. 

40. gEthiop. 


VOL. VI. 

41. Pilot. 

42. Pauline. [j£5, 

43. To Paris at d Hack for 

44. That Blessed Baby. 

45. To Parents^. Guardians 

46. Three Guardsmen. 

47. Our Gal. 

48. Night and Morning. 


VOL. VII. 

49. Married Life. 

50. Tom Cringle. 

51 . Swiss ( ottage. 

52. Jane Pyre. 

53 Young Widow. 

54. Wen lock of Wenlock, 

55. O’Flan igau and Fai- 

56. Irish Post. [ries. 


VOL. VIII. 


VOL. IX. 


57. Henriette, the Forsaken 

58. Aline the Rost of Killar- 

59. My t eighbor’s Wife.[ny 

60. Irish Tiger. 

6! . French Spy. 

62. Rose of 1 trie It vale. 

63. P P., or the Man &. Tiger 

64. To Oblige Benson. 


65. 

66 . 

67. 

68. 

69. 

70. 

71. 

72. 


Camille. 

Eustache Baudin. 
Earnest Maltravers. 
Bold Dragoons. 

W< pt of Wish-ton-Wish 
State Secrets. 

Irish Yankee. 

Last Days of Pompeii. 


VOL. X. 


73. 

74. 

75. 

76. 

77. 

78. 

79. 

80 . 


(In Press). 

T< mpest. 

A Good Fellow. 
Cherry and Fair Star 
Gale Hreezly. 
Ksmorelda. 

Our Jemima. 


Miller’s Maid. 


Pct< r Wilkins. 


VOL* XI. 

(In Press). 

81. Ben the Boatswain. 
52. Awkward Arrival. 
83. Ben Bolt. 

84 Crossing the Line. 

85 

86. Two Queens. 
t-7. Thumping Legacy, 
88. Jonathan 1’ rad ford. 


89. 

90. 

91. 

92. 

93. 

94. 

95. 

96. 


\OL. XII. 

■ ' ■ Press'). 

Bold r ..oke for a Hus- ) 
Crown Prince, [band. 


Sailor of France. 
Unfinished Gentleman. 


House Dog. 
Mii.eralli. 


. V 


Mr. F. has over 100, COO Plays to fill orders from, jublished in Europe and America. 
Plays sent by Mail on receipt of Price. 

American Plays, 12^ Cents each, or 10 for $ 1 . 00 . 

All orders will receive piompt attention. , 

' ** V 

S. FRENCH, 121 Nassau Street , New Yo, ^ 






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